The dolphins won’t come — a case for error.
- Mar 19
- 3 min read
My husband had planned to take my daughter on a boat trip to see dolphins. It was peak season for sightings — people were spotting them regularly, even from the beaches.
It was early morning. They were ready to leave when my husband turned to me and asked, “What if we don’t see any dolphins?”
At the time, I was still training with John Frawley, and I needed cases to practice. My partner knew that, so he asked if I could “cast a quick chart, just to be sure.” I think he expected reassurance, but…
I told him, “It’s very strange, but everything points to there being no dolphins.” It was so unlikely that I didn’t believe it myself. The thought even crossed my mind that horary astrology might be nonsense — that what I had been taught was simply too good to be true.
The only way to find out was to go. I was so convinced I was wrong that I told them, “I’m probably mistaken, so go and prove me wrong.” Once they had left, I went back to the chart to look for the clue I must have missed. But I never found it.
They came back, and my daughter shouted, “We didn’t see a single dolphin!” My husband told me that the marine biologists leading the trip were very surprised — for weeks, there had been dozens of dolphins every day, playing around the boats… except that day.
How is it possible to predict an event over which we have no control?
If I had relied on probability alone, I would have been wrong. It was a black swan — an unlikely event that nothing in the situation seemed to foreshadow. And if my mind truly created my reality, the dolphins should have appeared — since I was convinced I was mistaken.
And yet, by analysing the position of the planets at the exact moment the question was asked, and applying a precise set of rules, the event could be predicted. I know this may sound like an affront to reason. And I hold myself to the discipline of looking for evidence against the effectiveness of horary astrology. I do not claim it is infallible — or rather, that we as astrologers are infallible — but its relevance is such that I cannot ignore it.
The first step is to select the “significators.” Like in a play, each person involved in the situation is represented by an actor — and here, those actors are the planets.
What we’re looking for is a meeting. We want the actors to encounter one another, and for that to happen, the planets must “see” each other — what we call an aspect.
Here, my husband is represented by Venus, and the dolphins by Mercury. Will these two planets form an aspect — in other words, come into each other’s line of sight? No. There is no aspect at all — they will not see each other.
Another indication, if that weren’t enough: Mercury, the planet representing the dolphins, is very close to the Sun. Have you ever tried to see the Moon or any other celestial body when it’s near the Sun? It’s impossible. The Sun is so bright that its light blinds us and renders anything too close to it invisible. This physical observation underlies one of the rules of horary astrology: when a planet is too close to the Sun, it is weakened — or, as in this case, quite literally invisible.
Following the rules of horary practice, it was logically impossible for me to give any answer other than: “No, you will not see the dolphins.”
The rest, you already know.
If I had had unshakable faith in horary astrology, I might well have discouraged them from going. But horary astrology does not operate according to our faith, our convictions, our intuitions, or our certainties.
Doubt is the tool of proof. If one day you come to me with a question, whether you follow the judgment or not, the outcome matters to me. But for the sake of horary astrology, I must admit I have a preference for stubborn, resistant clients — the ones who won’t follow my advice and will try to prove me wrong.
If you’d like to read the full analysis, you’ll find it in the Horary Lab'.
If you want to ask a horary question, it's here.
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